


Tear-Strains and Tattered Jackets

by Listenerofshadows



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parental Figures, Child Abuse, Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Patton owns a sewing shop and is a good father figure, Physical Abuse, Platonic Moxiety, Virgil hangs around the sewing shop to get away from his parental figures, and also he's a fan of Patton's puns and cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 12:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17981762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: When Virgil shows up at his sewing shop, holding the tattered remains of his hoodie, Patton knows something has gone terribly wrong.





	Tear-Strains and Tattered Jackets

**Author's Note:**

> This comes from a dialogue prompt on Tumblr, "And where did you get that monstrosity you call a jacket?”

When Virgil shows up at his sewing shop, holding the tattered remains of his hoodie, Patton knows something has gone terribly wrong. The teenager looks like he’s on the edge of tears.

Patton steps forward quickly, flipping the store sign to “Closed” and locking the door. He doesn’t get much business during these hours anyways. What’s more important is making sure Virgil is alright.

He guides Virgil to the back room, which is really a storage room with two plastic lawn chairs and a cheap fold-up table. The fluorescent lighting of  the storage room shines brightly on the mottle of bruises across Virgil’s skin.

Virgil sits in one of the lawn chairs, gripping his former hoodie tightly. His eyes are unfocused, like his mind is in another plane of existence and it scares Patton.

He tries placing a comforting hand on the kiddo’s shoulder, but Virgil flinches. Patton withdraws quick as if touching a hot oven.

“I’m so sorry, Virge, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Patton whispers, as the teenager begins to shake, “It’s okay. You’re safe–I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore, I promise.”

Virgil barely registers those words. His breath accelerates, eyes shut. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t get why his uncle and aunt seem to hate his existence. Is he really that unworthy of their love?

“–and where did you get that monstrosity you call a jacket?”  His Aunt says, lips pulled back into a snarl.

“I–I made it.” Virgil stammers, “I took some old fabric scraps of yours and–”

“You took my fabric? You stole from me?!”

“I’m–I’m sorry–you threw them out I–I thought you didn’t want them anymore–”

_Smack._

He sobs. It clogs up his throat, making it hard to breath. Someone is counting. Patton.

One, two, three, four.

One, two three, four, five, six, seven.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

Repeat.

Virgil latches onto it, matching his breathing to the rhythm.

He opens his eyes to see Patton’s worried gaze.

“Hi Virge, you gave your ole pops quite a fright. You mind telling me what happened?” Patton asks before biting his lips, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but I–I want to help.”

Patton is out of his depth. He had a good home life growing up. But it’s clear Virgil doesn’t have that.

He has known there had been something wrong for awhile now. Virgil spends hours hanging out at the sewing shop. He rarely talks about friends or family. He is a skittish kid, startling at the smallest of noises. Patton had hoped Virgil was just an awkward teenager shy at social interactions.

Patton should’ve known better. A friend has told him stories, all the signs to look out for, from their experiences working as a CPS worker. He’s failed Virgil.

Virgil is silent for a long while. Patton is afraid of the kiddo won’t say anything. But in a slow, halting voice, Virgil relates the incident to him.

“A–and she got mad and tore it to shreds.” Virgil sniffles.

“Virgil, does this type of thing happen often?” Patton asks, straining to keep his voice calm. Patton is not a violent man, but he’s never been close to contemplating murder until this moment. Who would dare be so cruel to a fifteen-year-old child?

Virgil nods, and Patton’s heart breaks further by how defeated the kiddo looks.

“I–I mean, it isn’t their fault I’m such a screw-up–” He sees Patton’s increasing frown and takes a shaky breath, “right?”

“Oh, Virgil,” Patton whispers, eyes misty, “Nobody deserves to be treated that way, including you.”

Virgil’s heart stops. Not completely, as that would lead to death. But in that microsecond there is no beat. Deep down he knows his Uncle’s and Aunt’s actions aren’t right. It’s why he avoids spending time at the house as much as he can. Less time spent with them means less chances of fights breaking out. This moment, however, is monumental.

This is the first time he’s actually heard somebody else say their actions are wrong. For some reason this terrifies him. All these years, he thought he was the problem. Now he hears that they are the problem all along. He doesn’t know how to take it.

“But t-they’re my legal guardians.” He weakly protests.

“That still doesn’t give the right to mistreat you that way.” Patton says, his lips set to a firm line, “No one has the right to treat you that way, no matter what.”

Virgil stands up, the lawn chair falling to the ground with a thud, “I’m sorry for bothering you, Mr. Patton, I have to go back–they’ll be mad if I don’t go back–”

“Then don’t.”

He blinks, “W-what?”

“Don’t go back,” Patton says, rising from his chair slowly, “You don’t have to go back. Do you remember Logan?”

Virgil nods, unsure what the wiry man had to do with this conversation. He’d stopped by the shop a week ago to drop something off for Patton. Virgil has only exchanged a few short words of pleasantries with him.

“Logan’s a CPS worker. He can help,” Patton moves in front of Virgil, blocking his only exit, “He can make sure that they won’t ever hurt you again. That you’ll be safe.”

Virgil clutches the remains of his hoodie, holding it tighter against his beating chest. Patton has been unbelievably kind to him in the past year. He’s let him borrow his sewing machines, offered him advice and free home-baked cookies. He wants to trust him.

He wants to believe this will end in a fairytale ending. But he’s been in the system once before his aunt and uncle gained custody of him. He’s fifteen now. There is no other relatives willing to take him in. His chances of getting adopted are slim. No one would want him.

“I would want you.”

Virgil jolts, realizing belatedly he’d said some of that out loud. But Patton stands there, smiling at Virgil, as if he really is worthy of being loved. Tears prick Virgil’s eyes and wordlessly Patton opens up his arms.

Virgil barrels into Patton, knocking him back a step. But the man recovers, embracing Virgil back with a protective warmth only a parent figure could provide. The tattered remains of Virgil’s jacket slips from his fingers at last as he returns the hug, bawling.

Together they’ll fix the hoodie, patching the holes with purple plaid fabric and white thread. Patton will help show Virgil how to embroider a lightning storm symbol on the left-hand side of the hoodie. They will take something that is meant to be destroyed and turn it into something beautiful.

For now, Virgil holds onto Patton, knowing that he is loved beyond belief.


End file.
